Up here in Canada, taxes are due on April 30.  I have never had to pay a significant amount, because my paycheques usually have slightly more than needed deducted from them.  Last year I got about $70 back, which is about what I usually get.

This year I will be filing them late.  I can say this with confidence because the only time I have to do them before April 30 is today, as in I should be doing them RIGHT FUCKING NOW instead of sipping tea and writing lame blog posts that no one will read.

But my mind is mush.  It’s a thick slurry of pea soup right now, I bet.  No, not even creamed corn.  I could go for some split pea and ham soup.  Mmmmmm.   Anyway, I still have the fucking flu, and since I was working all day yesterday finishing my second comic, I’m mentally exhausted.

Not to mention that the only way I could sit in front of my computers for over 12 hours working in MS Paint to letter and detail and verify all 53 pages was to dope myself up heavily on cold medication.  And Ginseng.  And Ginkgo Biloba.  And Caffeine.  And Codeine.

So, when you look at those 53 pages of awesome done by Predator and Mr. Simon Write and me, remember that I lettered the last 5 pages and touched up all the previous pages while under the influence of performance enhancing drugs.


Look at me!  I’m a roid-monkey!

Nah, I’m more like this:

Speaking of Curious George, Remember that kid’s book Babar?  Or series of books, I guess?  I don’t know… I never read that slop when I was a kid (I was a huge fan of that little monkey though) but I remember watching some of the Babar animated cartoon show on CBC when I was in my early teens and waiting for Kids in the Hall to come on.  I never watched enough to get any story line details, but I do remember some rhinoceros king named “Rutaxes”

Turns out it’s Rataxes.  Bleh.  That ruins the pun I was gonna make about me ruing my taxes.

I don’t know why I always wait until the last minute to do my taxes.  I had my paperwork in order in February for crying out loud.  And every year when I file just before or after the deadline, I say to myself “I’m gonna get this shit over with ASAP next year”.

Well, I guess I can do them next weekend.  I won’t be sick then.  At least I fucking better not be.  I booked today off from work to work on my comic, but had I not, I would have phoned in sick anyway.  I can’t wait to drag myself out of bed tomorrow, and try to do a full day’s work while I’m groggy, sneezing, sore, feverish, dizzy and aching.

But enough of me complaining!  Here’s a funny pic!